Lays and Ballads from Ancient History etc. By S. M. [i.e. M. B. Smedley] |
 | I. |
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| 1. |
| 2. | LAY THE SECOND.
THE COMPLAINT OF CŒUR DE LION IN HIS CAPTIVITY. |
| 3. |
 | 4. |
| 5. |
| II. |
 | Lays and Ballads from Ancient History |  |
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LAY THE SECOND. THE COMPLAINT OF CŒUR DE LION IN HIS CAPTIVITY.
I was a king of fearless might,
I was a warrior and a knight,
My soul was like the morning light,
So sparkling in its buoyancy!
I was a warrior and a knight,
My soul was like the morning light,
So sparkling in its buoyancy!
I am a captive sad and lone,
And all my glorious things are gone,
Except the heart that is mine own,
Unchanging in its royalty!
And all my glorious things are gone,
Except the heart that is mine own,
Unchanging in its royalty!
The sword that I was wont to wield,
The dancing plume, the knightly shield,
The clarion calling to the field,
Are lost to my captivity!
The dancing plume, the knightly shield,
The clarion calling to the field,
Are lost to my captivity!
The crown that I was wont to wear,
The robe of pride, the sceptre fair,—
These are not mine, though mine they were,—
Gone are the signs of majesty!
The robe of pride, the sceptre fair,—
These are not mine, though mine they were,—
Gone are the signs of majesty!
Oh, that I were a simple hind,
Slavish in toil, and weak in mind,
So I might feel the morning wind
Sweep o'er my forehead joyously!
Slavish in toil, and weak in mind,
So I might feel the morning wind
Sweep o'er my forehead joyously!
Oh, that I were a village maid,
To weeping prone, of wars afraid,
So I might tread the mossy glade,
Unthinking and at liberty!
To weeping prone, of wars afraid,
So I might tread the mossy glade,
Unthinking and at liberty!
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The rills along my native plains
Are murmuring forth their gladsome strains;
And the gay breeze that scorneth chains
Is blowing fresh and wantonly!
Are murmuring forth their gladsome strains;
And the gay breeze that scorneth chains
Is blowing fresh and wantonly!
The birds that skim my native air
Are pouring forth sweet music there;
The woods are green, the hills are fair,
While I am in captivity!
Are pouring forth sweet music there;
The woods are green, the hills are fair,
While I am in captivity!
My strength is worn, my spirits sink,
My heart does every thing but shrink;
Alas, my people, do ye think
Upon your king regretfully?
My heart does every thing but shrink;
Alas, my people, do ye think
Upon your king regretfully?
My queen,
my wife, my lady! thou
Of the blue eye and dazzling brow,
Say, art thou weeping for me now,
In sad and patient constancy?
Of the blue eye and dazzling brow,
Say, art thou weeping for me now,
In sad and patient constancy?
Do ye remember me? Oh, fast
The weary months are gliding past:
Will they bring liberty at last?
Or have ye all forgotten me?
The weary months are gliding past:
Will they bring liberty at last?
Or have ye all forgotten me?
Ah, friends! if ye were thus distress'd,
Thus chain'd, insulted, and oppress'd,
Ye would not find this faithful breast
So careless of your memory!
Thus chain'd, insulted, and oppress'd,
Ye would not find this faithful breast
So careless of your memory!
Ah, lady! did a tear but steep
Those moonlight eyes, so still and deep,
Here is a heart, ere thou shouldst weep,
That would rejoice to die for thee!
Those moonlight eyes, so still and deep,
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That would rejoice to die for thee!
Hard is the lesson I must learn,
How changeless faith meets false return;
The love I give I cannot earn
As strong in its fidelity!
How changeless faith meets false return;
The love I give I cannot earn
As strong in its fidelity!
My God, for Thee my sword I drew;
Thy foes my strong arm overthrew;
Oh, do not Thou forget me too;
Give aid in mine extremity!
Thy foes my strong arm overthrew;
Oh, do not Thou forget me too;
Give aid in mine extremity!
Upon Thy love my heart shall lean
Even in my dungeon's gloomy scene;
Forgotten by my friends and queen,
In Thee I find sufficiency!
Even in my dungeon's gloomy scene;
Forgotten by my friends and queen,
In Thee I find sufficiency!
| Lays and Ballads from Ancient History | |